


I don't pop my cork for every man I see

by psychomachia



Category: Sekirei
Genre: Crossdressing, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Temperature Play, Thigh-High Tights/Boots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: He's not sure if Minato's even aware that he's putting out these signals. The man is kind, but dense, and Homura's been a host long enough to know that just because someone says nice things to you (and maybe even blushes and flirts), it doesn't mean they want anything more.





	I don't pop my cork for every man I see

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rose Argent (roseargent)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseargent/gifts).



The problem with Minato, Homura thinks, is that he's a wonderful, forgiving, caring man who happens to be completely oblivious about the fact that his household would love nothing better than for him to sleep with them.

Okay, maybe he understands Musubi's affection, because Musubi is the very definition of love and devotion and being completely fine with her Ashikabi being intimate with multiple people.

And yes, Matsu's perversity is pretty recognizable and Kazehana has gotten pretty handsy and Tsukiumi calls him her husband and even Kuu says she wants to be with him when she gets older... honestly, the amount of devotion he inspires is terrifying (especially when you consider who his father is and yes, that's something Homura doesn't like to think about too hard).

So really, the problem is that Homura doesn't really know how to show Minato that yes, he too, would like to be with his Ashikabi in that way. And by that way, he means, sex.

It's just-- he went so long without one and was pretty resolved to dying without ever being winged. And then Minato comes along and he's accepting and compassionate and doesn't want Homura to die or change and before he knows it, Homura's fallen head over heels for him.

But every time he tries to open his mouth to tell him that, something happens...

Like Minaka showing up in a giant blimp to try to get some family bonding time (Takami had already called in a team of specialists to deal with him, but thankfully, Kazehana had already blown the blimp away before too much damage could be done.

Or Yukari dragging her brother away to go on a shopping expedition for school because, “You're finally an actual college student and you need some proper clothing. Mom agreed and gave us her MBI credit card to charge so we're also going to buy Shiina some things. No, you need them too.”

Or any one of the countless interruptions in the inn that happen when you have Sekirei with no concept of personal space, a flare for the dramatic, and some deep interpersonal rivalries.

“You'd better keep your hands of my husband, you drunken hussy!” A splash of water spurts towards Kazehana, but stops as she raises her hand.

“My, my, Tsukiumi, you'll never be a good wife with that temper,” she responds, wind whipping around her.

Matsu's glasses gleam from a corner of the room. “Yes,” she whispers. “Continue to give me data.”

“We should stop fighting,” says Musubi, her hand around Kuu's shoulder, a green tendril creeping up over her hand. “After all--” She doesn't get the chance to finish as Tsukiumi sends another burst of water, which Kazehana redirects into...

Minato. He stands there, dripping wet, the paper bag in his hand, soggy and limp. “So I missed something?” he asks, his shoes squelching as he walks over.

“I'm sorry, Minato,” Tsukiumi says, “I would never want to hurt my husband.”

Kazehana flips a hand lazily. “Yes, I'm sorry, too. But if you'd like to take off your shirt here--”

“That's all right,” Minato quickly responds. “I'll just get changed into my room.” He leaves as all of them stare awkwardly at each other.

All, except for Homura, who has decided in a fit of madness, he thinks, to run after him. “Minato, wait up!” he says. “I can help you get dry.”

Minato looks at him, beaming. “I wouldn't want to impose,” he says.

“It's no problem.”

“All right,” he says and opens the door to his room. Homura follows him in and Minato shuts it. In the distance, he thinks he can hear the sounds of bickering, so there's another crisis he's avoided.

Unfortunately, he forgot about this new problem, which is that Minato takes off his shirt to reveal his nice, firm chest. His nipples are peaked with cold, probably from the water, and there are droplets coming down them.

This was not a good idea.

“This is a great idea,” Minato says brightly. “You can test your powers and I won't drip all over the house.”

“Yes,” Homura says in a strangled voice. “That's exactly right.”

He moves over to Minato and begins to warm his fingers slightly. He's mortified to find himself shaking slightly, nervous because Homura doesn't want to hurt Minato, doesn't want to burn him with his flames. His hands grow hotter and he can feel the heat emanating from them. Breathing in slightly, he lays them on Minato's back.

Minato jumps slightly and Homura takes his hands away.

“What's wrong?”he asks. Oh, if he hurt Minato...

Minato shakes his head. “Nothing. I was just surprised.” He smiles reassuringly. “Don't worry about me. You're doing great.”

He hasn't done anything yet. That's Minato for you, praising before it's not even earned. “Just let me know if it's painful.” He lays his hands back down on his back and Minato stands steady.

He moves his hands up and down and underneath him, the skin turns pink, like stepping out of a hot shower. He's careful not to linger too long on any part. Before too long, the skin is dry.

“That's amazing, Homura! You've really gained a lot of control,” Minato says, and he's excited. “Let me turn around.”

Yeah, he really hasn't thought this through. Minato's nipples stand upright and perky, agreeing with him and he swallows. “Thank you, Minato.”

He's just as careful with the chest (perhaps a little too careful), rubbing his hands around the torso, careful to ghost over the nipples. He pointedly does not make eye contact and he sort of wishes he could close his own eyes.

Minato squeaks a little, and murmurs, “Ticklish,” when he gets close to his sides. Homura looks at Minato's face and it's flushed, just as pink as his skin below. He's biting his lip.

“You don't have to stop, Homura,” he says quietly. “It feels good.”

Homura stares at him and thankfully, the silence is broken by a shriek from the living room and then the crash of something breaking. “I should probably go,” he says. “You can finish the rest by yourself.”

He makes sure he doesn't look back when he hears Minato unzipping his pants as Homura flees from the room.

* * *

Homura avoids Izumo Inn for a while after that.

It's just... uncomfortable. He's not sure if Minato's even aware that he's putting out these signals. The man is kind, but dense, and Homura's been a host long enough to know that just because someone says nice things to you (and maybe even blushes and flirts), it doesn't mean they want anything more.

Just because someone kisses you and tells you they want you, doesn't mean they see you in the same way you see them.

And he'd never want to hurt Minato. He's a rarity in Ashikabis, someone who doesn't want power or knowledge or money but to help everyone.

Homura stubs out his cigarette and thinks, maybe that's why he and Musubi are so close. They both want to save everyone, even people no one thinks are capable of being saved. Or deserve it.

“Homura?” He hears his name and looks up to see a black car pulling alongside him. He dusts off his coat and makes his way over to the window as it rolls down.

Great, just as he thought. Takami. Just when he was trying to avoid one Sahashi.

“Takami,” he says. “What brings you here?”

“I was looking for you,” she says, and opens the door. “I know you don't do host work anymore but I have a special job for you.”

That.. was not what he was expecting to hear. “Excuse me?”

“Look, Homura,” she says, and her voice goes soft. “I'm not going to ask why you're out here. But I need your help. I have an employee who's going through a rough time and she just needs someone to talk to for a little bit.”

“But, Takami.”

“I won't force you to do this,” she says. “After all you've been through, that's the last thing I'd want for you. It would mean a lot for me, however, if you could help me out. And I think it would be good for you too.”

He sighs. It's not always obvious, but one of the main things Takami and Minato have in common is that he hates to disappoint them. “As long as she's not upset by who she gets.”

Takami shakes her head. “She knows who you are. She's okay with that.”

There's a deep foreboding in Homura, a warning that tells him to back out now, to run away, but he hasn't been listening to that voice lately, so why should he start now?

He gets in the car and rests his head against the cool glass of the window.

* * *

“A hotel?”

“I know you're not comfortable with the clubs anymore, and a personal residence would be quite unprofessional. I can guarantee this one is reputable and I don't foresee any issues.”

Reputable was putting it mildly. The hotel was gorgeous, the lobby lit with a crystal chandelier that overlooked a curved sculpture. He felt mildly unkempt, but the staff were polite enough to pretend not to notice his disheveled state. Apparently, MBI's money could buy anything.

Homura reaches the polished wooden door and pulls out the key he had been given, sliding it until the lock glows green. He straightens his shoulders, puts on his best fake smile and pushes the door open.

The girl's back is to him and she's leaning over, but he can make out a red silk dress, dark stockings, and a shock of black hair atop her head. There's the smell of flowers in the room and the lights are soft, a warm golden glow illuminating the plush bedroom.

“Hello, Miss Kobayashi, you asked for me?”

She turned around and it was enough to make him clutch the table next to him, rattling the lamp. He vaguely thinks, damn you, Takami, and then is horrified by what her setting him up implies.

“Homura. I'm sorry for the deception,” Minato says sheepishly, as his red heels (heels!) sink on the carpet. “I asked my mother for her assistance since I wanted to be able to talk to you, but I didn't really want her to know all the details. But you know her--:

“I do,” he says, and is proud he is able to make any sound at all. “You wouldn't be able to afford this on your own.”

“Right?” Minato says. “It's a little-- too much for me.”

Homura manages a weak smile. “You didn't have to do this,” he says. “Pretend to be a girl just to talk to me. I was going to come home soon.”

“Yes, I did,” Minato says firmly and Homura almost takes up a step back. The voice Minato's using now is the battle one, the one that tells his Sekirei to hold on, to not give up, to trust each other. It's the one he used to wing Homura.

Crap. This isn't going to end easily.

“I mean--”

“You're avoiding us. You're avoiding me. And I need to know what's wrong.” Minato's hands land on Homura's shoulders. His nails are red too.

“Nothing's wrong,” he says. “I just needed a little space.”

“Was it because I hit on you?” Minato asked. “Because if I misunderstood your intentions and caused you to feel uncomfortable, I apologize.” He looks down, as Homura tries to understand just exactly what Minato has just said.

“Hit on me?”

“When you were drying me off. I've been watching you before that and I could see you wanted to confess something to me, but I didn't want to press you. Then you started touching me and I thought maybe you weren't going to tell me with words, but with actions. But then you ran away and I couldn't get in contact with you and--”

“Wait, you were hitting on me?”

“Yes,” Minato says. “I was hoping you were hitting on me too.”

Homura knows there are two responses to this statement. One would be his normal, rational one where he affirms Minato's feelings but reiterates that he would like to keep it at a friendship level. Minato would be disappointed for a little bit, but he'd try to act normal and eventually things would be okay.

That is not the response he chooses.

Instead, he leans forward and kisses Minato on his cherry red lips, flicking his tongue inside when Minato opens his mouth.

He pulls back.

“Good,” Minato says. “Now we're communicating.”

* * *

It's a king sized bed, plumped with down and filled with way too many pillows. Minato sinks on it, and Homura follows, standing next to him.

“So how do you find those heels?” Homura asks, as Minato bends down to take them off.

“They're kind of hard to walk in,” Minato says. He rubs one of his feet a little. “I don't know how my mom does it.”

“Well, she's had practice.” Homura unbuttons his white shirt and removes it, exposing his small breasts to the air. He drops the shirt casually to the floor and is pleased to see Minato following his movements, his breathing heavy.

His pants are the next to go, then his underwear, until he's naked, his cock fully exposed to Minato's eyes. “It's a little unfair that I'm the only one naked here,” he tells him.

Minato shakes his head, smiling, and reaches up to the back of his dress. “Maybe you could help me with this?” He flutters his eyelashes and stands up, looking expectantly.

Maybe Minato missed his calling by not going into host work, Homura thinks. Because he's doing a damn good job of flirting and Homura has no choice but to oblige. “It would be my pleasure.” He slides the zipper down, exposing Minato's beautiful skin and the red lace of... a bra?

“Really, Minato? You got the matching set?”

Minato blushes. “Well, coverage is important.”

“Yes, it is.”

The dress drops to the floor and Homura is treated to the sight of his Ashikabi in a red lace bra and matching underwear, dark thigh high stockings being held up by lacy garters. Minato meets his eye contact unflinching, before deliberately putting his leg upon the bed. “Are you going to finish it?”

Homura responds by stroking Minato's leg through the stockings. “Did you shave your legs?” At Minato's nod, he slips his hand between the garter and the leg and strokes the smooth skin underneath. “How thoughtful.”

Minato responds by pushing Homura back until he's sitting on the bed before climbing on top of him. “I try to think about all the needs of the people I love,” he says, kissing Homura softly on the mouth.

Homura grips his waist and Minato squeaks a little. Ticklish, after all. He deepens the kiss, and Minato parts his lips, letting Homura's tongue stroke inside. He puts his arms around Homura's back and presses himself tightly to him, the red lace scratching against his bare skin.

He breaks the kiss and moves down Minato's neck, sucking the skin until it turns red. Minato laughs and arches backwards, his hands leaving Homura's shoulders to grip at the sheets beneath them. “Let me get more comfortable,” he says and tries to put his hands behind his back, while maintaining his precarious position.

Homura reaches his own arms behind Minato's back, pulling him closer until Minato's riding on top of his cock. The itch of the lace and the smoothness of the silk rub him until he's panting as much as Minato. With a practiced maneuver, he undoes the hooks on Minato's bra and it drops between them until he tosses it out of sight.

“Is that better?” he asks and Minato responds by sliding his legs against Homura's, rubbing the stockings against him.

“It would be better,” he says, “if you could find a way to get these panties off me too.”

“Well, if someone would get off my lap, he might help me out with it.”

Minato groans. “Fine, fine,” he says and Homura gets the pleasure of seeing his Ashikabi in nothing but stockings and a slip of fabric slide his fingers along his hip to slip down them down to the floor. He kicks them aside and settles himself gingerly back on Homura's lap.

Homura's cock is now resting against against Minato's own and he wonders if Minato wants him to go further. It's not that he doesn't want to give Minato everything he deserves for being... Minato, but he's not really prepared for this yet.

“It's okay, Homura,” Minato said, his breath hot against Homura's neck as he kisses it. “We don't need to do this yet.”

Homura lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. “Whatever you want,” he says, and means it to the bottom of his soul. He reaches a hand out to stroke Minato's cock, which is rising against him. Minato sighs breathily and puts his own manicured hand to rub against Homura's.

Then Homura gets a terrible, wonderful idea, and it's Minato's own fault that he tends to encourage them. He removes his hand, causing Minato to whine and squirm a little. He waits until Minato's gaze focuses and he's looking at him before raising his hand and showing Minato it warming up.

Minato nods a frantic yes and Homura heats up his other hand until both must be just on the comfortable side of hot. He puts his hand back down around Minato's cock and Minato arches back so fast that Homura has to put his other hand around Minato's back.

Minato is feeling it now, and he's making wordless sounds, trying not to grip Homura's cock too tightly. His red nails run slightly against it, a little scritch of pain that goes away as Minato relaxes.

Homura takes the opportunity to let go once he feels him calm himself and he indulges himself in tweaking Minato's nipples, one first and then the other.

He keeps moving a hand all over Minato when he can, and everywhere he touches, a spot of pink comes forward. He watches Minato, waiting for him to tell him when it's too much, but Minato does nothing but make a little noise when he stops, encouraging him onwards. People always underestimate just how strong Minato really is. They look at him and think, that's the Ashikabi of the North? Just how did he get six Sekirei and all those jinkis?

He got it by being Minato, by being the bravest person Homura knows. Anyone can fight someone, but Minato's willing to step in the middle of them and take all the blows if it'll keep them all safe. And he won't do it because he wants anything more from them than to be happy. To be loved.

How did it take him so long to get that? He should have seen it from the moment he met him.

They're both close to the edge, Homura can tell, and it's not long before Minato comes, his hand making its own frantic motions against Homura's cock and now Homura is coming too, lowering his head to rest it on the top of Minato's. They're both trying to catch their breath.

He raises his head when he hears Minato say something. He leans back and Minato smiles a sweet, tired smile.

“I told you it felt good.”

Homura laughs.

* * *

The next morning, as Homura lies in bed next to Minato, smoking a cigarette. Minato's nose wrinkles, and Homura stubs it out in the ashtray. A thought occurs to him.

“I know Takami got you the room, but just how did you get the clothes?” He grimaces as something horrible enters his mind. “Don't tell me, she picked those out too.”

“No!” Minato says, his eyes wide as he shakes his head. “I would never let mom near this.”

“Good, good.”

“No, it was Yukari.”

Homura's not sure if that's better or worse. “But that means--”

“Yeah, she knows too. I had to call her and get her advice. I mean, I wasn't going to ask anyone in the inn.”

They both shudder. “I really hope Shiina--” Homura doesn't dare finish that thought and Minato looks vaguely ill.

“Well, we've got until noon,” Minato says, mercifully changing the subject. “How ever shall we pass the time?”

Homura reaches over to kiss him, and Minato reaches under the covers to run his hand along Homura's thigh.

He's reaching his hand towards Homura's cock, which is definitely up to the task, when they both hear the unmistakable sound of a woman shouting, “I know you're here, Minato. Matsu said she tracked you here.”

“Oh, no,” Minato's voice whispers. “Is that--

“Now, Tsukiumi, we don't know he's here.”

“No one asked you, Kazehana! Just go back home while I bring my husband back,”

“Excuse me, he's my Ashikabi too.”

“Musubi, please don't get involved.”

The door rattles from a large gust of wind whipping through the hallway and they can both see a puddle of water forming under the door. There's the sound of glass breaking in the hallway.

Frankly, he's surprised to not see a blimp outside as well. It would be just like Minaka to congratulate his son on his successful Sekirei joining by broadcasting his fatherly, privacy-invading love.

Minato struggles into one of the hotel bathrobes and throws him his pants. He's eyeing the windows then the doors, before looking at Homura with a hunted expression. Takami's security is no doubt on the way and Homura can only hope they get there before the property damage gets too extreme.

As he gives Minato a reassuring look, while trying to zip up and find where his shirt went, he makes a mental note.

Next time, remember to bribe Matsu first.


End file.
